


Don't tempt doom

by ruyijingu



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Written as platonic but can be seen as romantic, one swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruyijingu/pseuds/ruyijingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a lovely, sunny day on Chorus, and Simmons had decided to wear casual clothes.<br/>Honestly, he should of just stuck with his armour.</p><p>Beta'd by Maffasaur</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't tempt doom

Simmons stretched and walked out of the base.

It was a lovely, sunny day on Chorus and there was really no need for armour on a day like this. In light of that fact, Simmons had grabbed a random shirt out of his drawers and slipped it on, before grabbing his glasses and heading outside.

When he glanced over and saw that Grif was awake, it came as a surprise. Grif had apparently had the same idea as him, which came as surprise number two. The other soldier was clad in an orange singlet and a pair of red shorts which stood out against the green grass Grif was sitting on.

“Hey Grif, you’re up early.” He noted, making the man turn to look at him.

Simmons looked over the paler parts of his body, which made him look like a patchwork quilt. It sometimes felt so surreal to think that part of his body, part of him, was inside Grif… and probably getting abused.

“Oh my god, Simmons, I- How could you?” Simmons was snapped out of thought by Grif’s faux horror. It was painfully obvious that the orange wearing soldier was faking it, especially since he was hiding a giant grin behind his hand. But why?

One glance down at his shirt explained why.

It was blue. The very same colour of the ocean and skies - and definitely _not_ red.

Simmons dragged his gaze back up at Grif, who held a look of pure evil on his face that Simmons just _knew_ was going to be bad news.  
He just knew that Grif was going to be a pain in the ass and do God knows what-

“ _Sarge!_ ” The yell made Simmons jump halfway out his skin. By all the Gods above Chorus, he was going to kill Grif.

“ _Sarge, you’re not gonna believe this! Simmons is a traitor_ -”

Simmons let out an angry squeak. “Shut _up_ , Grif!”

 _“Sarge!_ _He’s gonna kill us all, filthy blue in the camp!”_

In a matter of minutes, Sarge came roaring around the edge of the base. The Colonel was keen on maybe destroying a few fools - after he watched them kill Grif of course - Oh what a sweet sweet day that would be.

Sarge’s thoughts came to an immediate halt when he saw Simmons and Grif.  
Clearly, Simmons was _attempting_ to restrain his fellow officer by sitting on him and covering his mouth. Granted half his hand was in Grif’s mouth and there was a very real worry that Grif _might_ bite, but it was still muffling his maniacal laughter.

However, Sarge only saw one thing and one thing only.

Simmons was wearing blue. Dirty, traitorous blue.

“ _Simmons!_ ” Simmons jolted upwards with yet another undignified squeak and immediately let go of Grif, unleashing the laughter from him. The usually maroon armored soldier scrambled up into a standing position and went to salute his Colonel, before he saw that the older man was stalking towards him, death in his eyes. “What _are_ you doing?!”

“Grif… what did you _do_?” Simmons whispered lowly, looking slowly down at Grif and then back up at Sarge. The older man moved towards them with a surprisingly brisk pace.

Beside Simmons, Grif was wheezing. “Holy shit, Simmons, I think you’re gonna die. You better run man.” Grif managed, still out of breath from both his uncontrollable laughter and the fact that a fully grown man had been sitting on top of him.

Simmons remained deathly still, watching silently as Sarge walked up to him with his trusty shotgun in hand.

There was some alarming inner dialogue going through the young soldier's mind.  
Sarge wouldn’t shoot Simmons, right? It was just a shirt. It was one of the shirts the Chorus people has provided to them because they weren’t exactly able to bring their items from Blood Gulch with them.

Sarge cocked his gun, just once.

Simmons ran like he’d never run before.

And Grif started laughing so hard sound no longer came out again.

Everyone in the camp - Hell, everyone on Chorus probably heard the high pitched, blood curdling scream that erupted from Simmons as he ran from his doom. Said doom followed closely after him with a shotgun.

Moral of the story?  
  
Don’t tempt doom when it hasn’t had it’s Strawberry Yoohoo for the morning.


End file.
